


One Centimeter Apart

by shikamarubase



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A ton of introspection, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Iwaizumi Hajime, M/M, POV Iwaizumi Hajime, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Sad with a Happy Ending, Seijoh 4 idiocy, lots of pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikamarubase/pseuds/shikamarubase
Summary: Oikawa is in a relationship, and Iwaizumi is more jealous than he lets on.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36
Collections: Iwaoi Server Valentine Exchange 2021





	One Centimeter Apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InnocentDumpling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnocentDumpling/gifts).



> This is my submission for the IwaOi Server Valentine’s Exchange! 
> 
> To my giftee, I decided to write for your second prompt and had a lot of fun writing the pain (and humor). I sincerely hope you enjoy reading!

“You got a girlfriend?” 

The question falls out of Iwaizumi’s lips like an accusation, a sound sharp enough to cut through the serene evening and painful enough to ripple the air around them. With creased brows, Iwaizumi stares straight at the flickering street lights ahead as the aching drum in his chest nearly drowns out the cheery news that slipped past Oikawa’s lips. 

_Oikawa has a girlfriend._

He soaks this in, clenching his teeth to make sure his stoic mask does not crumble. Iwaizumi doesn’t understand how Oikawa can smile when he hears his own heart ripping in two. But he bears with it, stamping a huge band aid over the crevice to apply first aid, because it simply isn’t the right time to wallow in self-pity. Not with his best friend staring at him expectantly. Oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him, Oikawa seems to mistake the crack in Iwaizumi’s voice for disbelief, and huffs indignantly. 

“Sounding this surprised is rude, Iwa-chan,” he admonishes. “There’s nothing strange about it. I’m popular with girls, after all.” 

_Not just with girls,_ Iwaizumi bites his tongue and deflects that train of thought by aiming a kick at Oikawa’s backside. The whiny protests that roll off Oikawa’s tongue jolt Iwaizumi back into a sense of normalcy. He straightens up and wills himself to breathe evenly.

“Idiot. Didn’t you swear off relationships when your ex broke up with you? Why all of a sudden?” 

Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he saw Oikawa’s eyes clouding over or if it was only a trick of light. Either way, Oikawa avoids eye contact when he answers. 

“This time it’s different. She’s different,” Oikawa murmurs vaguely, but not without a hint of clear affection present in the undertone of his voice. 

Iwaizumi falls silent, keeping his jaw set in order not to betray the shattered pieces where his heart used to be. There are a million questions just begging to fall from the tip of his tongue: 

_What do you like about her?  
_

_Does she make your heart beat as much as mine does around you?_

_Is it hard to push away the urge to touch her?_

_Why is it never me?_

He takes time to swallow it all back, to the back of his throat where it forms into a lump of unanswered questions; to the furthest corner of his chest where he’s spent years fostering hidden feelings for a boy who has only ever seen him as a friend. 

“Who is she?” is what he asks instead, jamming a hand into the pocket of his trousers to conceal the fist he’s been yearning to throw in frustration. 

Oikawa perks up, his eyes shining brightly in the excitement of sharing the most joyful news to his closest friend. “Her name is Megumi-chan. We’ve been in the same class for three years, but I never noticed her feelings until she confessed to me today.” 

The image of a petite brunette shimmers in Iwaizumi’s mind. She must be the same girl who called Oikawa out right after their practice ended. Confessing to Oikawa is a usual occurrence, so Iwaizumi shrugged it off just like all the other times, convinced that Oikawa would reject her like every other girl before. 

Except this time, he didn’t. 

He attempts not to rethink all the choices he could have made to prevent his own heartbreak, but they grate in his head anyway; in love letters he’s thrown in the trash, in melodies unsung, in lines and lines of poetry he’s left unspoken. All these feelings he’s wasted years penting up, useless, because Oikawa now belongs to someone else. 

Unbeknownst to the regret choking his lungs, Oikawa continues to ramble on about his new girlfriend, bliss plastered in the whites of his teeth. 

“Anyway, starting tomorrow I’m going to pick her up for school. So you’ll have to walk alone, Iwa-chan.” 

Another knife stabs his heart, and for a moment Iwaizumi allows himself to stare at Oikawa’s profile in silent melancholy. “That’s a given. Wouldn’t want you to be dumped so soon.” He manages to disguise hopeless longing with a harsh chortle. 

Oikawa turns his head sharply and Iwaizumi swears his heart stops for a second, the fear of being discovered pulsing through his veins like venom. He fights to retain a mask of indifference, but what if he doesn’t look as calm as he desperately pretends to be? If Oikawa realizes he’s harboring feelings, feelings beyond the acceptable confines of friendship, how would he react? He needs to snuff out even the smallest possibility of it— Oikawa can never know. 

He holds his breath as Oikawa leans forward and scrutinizes him, close enough for Iwaizumi to count his eyelashes and lose himself in the warm hues of his irises. He’s found himself in the same situation countless times over the years; his tight relationship with Oikawa gives him the advantage of being closer to him than most. Accidental touches can be easily shrugged off, skinship claimed natural between two old friends. He could touch him without arousing suspicions, feel the flush of his skin against his without revealing the scorching yearning that simmers underneath. It shames Iwaizumi to admit that he’s used his title as Oikawa’s best friend to his advantage throughout the years. But no matter how close he‘s allowed to get, the line of friendship wedges itself between them, a constant reminder of who he can never have, of what can never be. No matter how much he longs to close the distance, to take the plunge and capture Oikawa’s lips with his, to relish the taste of his first love, a distance of one centimeter always separates them. 

That distance haunts him at this very moment. With Oikawa’s breath caressing his face, Iwaizumi’s line of sight inadvertently zeroes in on his mouth; the very same mouth that spews out so much nonsense, he’d daydream of kissing it shut more than half the time. If he ever summons enough courage to close the space between their lips and finally own up to his true feelings, will it feel as soft as he’s always imagined it to be? For a second, Iwaizumi feels the innate urge to act on his suppressed feelings. Who cares if he’s taken? Just once in his life Iwaizumi wants to give zero fucks about consequences; he wants nothing more than to cut off the unending chain of excuses holding him back. 

Determination, yearning, and a touch of desperation pool in his gut, but before he can make a move Oikawa opens his mouth and immediately dispels the illusionary spiral Iwaizumi sucked himself into.

“Is that jealousy I hear, Iwa-chan? You should know you’ll never get a girlfriend if you always look constipated.” 

He scoffs. A girlfriend, right. If he were attracted to women, then he wouldn’t be having so much trouble. Heck, to be romantically attracted to any other guy would've been less complicated than pining for his best friend. 

“Don’t be an idiot. I just don’t want you to come crying back to me when she drops your neglectful ass, like your ex did,” he growls by reflex, as if he wasn’t just about to destroy an entire decade of trust in one impulsive second. 

Oikawa‘s expression twists into a pout. “You really have so little faith in me, Iwa-chan. You should know I never make the same mistake twice!” 

_I know,_ Iwaizumi thinks as he pretends to roll his eyes. _Because I’m the real idiot who’d rather suffer in silence than bare my feelings to you._

“Spare me the theatrics, dumbass. Just...make her your top priority this time, Shittykawa.” 

_And maybe, just maybe, I can finally let you go._

———

Iwaizumi regrets his words the next day, when he steps outside the threshold at dawn and realizes Oikawa is nowhere in sight, and his day doesn’t get any better. After an extremely long morning of classes, his patience is tested when Hanamaki and Matsukawa caught wind of Oikawa’s new relationship status and decided to poke him for more information. 

“Was Oikawa walking with a girl this morning?” Matsukawa is the epitome of casual as he changes into his jersey for afternoon practice. The question hangs in the air between them, and Iwaizumi can almost feel Hanamaki’s eyes piercing the back of his head as they both wait for him to speak.

Iwaizumi doesn’t tell them his crush’s girlfriend is absolutely the last topic he wants to talk about right now. Instead, he repeats the lines he’s been practicing for this sort of ambush in mind.

“Probably. He has a new girlfriend.” His answer comes out nonchalantly, almost bored, as he changes into his own jersey. 

“Oh? Do pray and tell us more.” 

Leering like a pair of gossipy housewives, the duo circle around him in the locker room, not giving him space to stretch his arms, much less _breathe._ Iwaizumi curses silently to himself. He should’ve known this idiotic pair would never leave it at just that. If there’s one other thing they both have in common aside from volleyball, it’s the incessant desire to collect information on Oikawa to use as blackmail later. 

“Tell us everything,” Hanamaki insists, spitting the words to his face, so close that Iwaizumi winces.

“Don’t leave a single detail out,” Matsukawa says seriously, eyes glinting with intense curiosity. “We want the whole story.” 

A frown pulls at his face. Iwaizumi isn’t sure what it is they want to know exactly. Do they want a long winded explanation of how seeing them together in-between classes clenches at his heart? Or how the tender smile Oikawa shoots at her when he thinks no one else is looking punches all the air out of his lungs? Because honestly, the only information he’s gleaned from that day is the degree of complete agony he can tolerate. And he doesn’t think a therapy session revolving around _his feelings_ is what either of them has in mind. They’re supposed to be getting ready for volleyball practice, not Iwaizumi’s one-man pity party. “We haven’t been introduced. I barely know anything, much less spoken to her.” 

_And I hope it stays that way,_ he nearly adds. 

His teammates look at him with identical expressions of doubt. “You’re not lying just so you can keep all the dirt to yourself, are you?” 

Iwaizumi shakes his head in disbelief. “In what world do you think I would actually do that?” If anything, he’d pay an entire lifetime worth of savings just to erase all his memories of the past day.

He etches a firm expression on his face, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki finally deflate in disappointment after scrutinizing him for a while longer. They peel themselves away from his personal space and turn their backs to him, exchanging words they mistakenly believe Iwaizumi cannot overhear as they huddle shoulder-to-shoulder.

“If Iwaizumi doesn’t know anything, we sure as hell won’t be able to get any information out of Oikawa,” Hanamaki says in an urgent hush. 

“Calm down, we still have a way.” 

“How?” 

“Only two people in the world know how this relationship came to be, right?” Iwaizumi can almost picture the wheels turning in Matsukawa’s head as he speaks, not to mention the diabolical grin that’s sure to have spread across his face by now. “So first, we talk to Oikawa. If he doesn’t budge, we go directly to our other source of information—the girlfriend, herself.” 

Eyes widening, Hanamaki gasps “Genius!” in the most awe-inspired tone, Iwaizumi has to disguise a snort that slipped past him with a loud cough. 

“You don’t need to do that,” he protests. “Oikawa seemed happy to share the last time I saw him.”

His friends spin around to face him, cocking reluctant eyebrows. “Didn’t you just say you don’t know anything?” Matsukawa points out. 

Iwaizumi shrugs, bending down to tie his shoelaces and avoid eye contact. “I heard a bit from him last night, but I wasn’t exactly listening that time,” he admits. 

The two exchange a _look_ Iwaizumi cannot decipher, and then turn back to him as if they’ve just conversed with their eyes, all in a matter of seconds. For some reason, this makes Iwaizumi uneasy, like a slimy realization has just latched onto his back and he jumps away from the intruder on instinct. 

“Iwaizumi—“ 

“Anyway, interrogate him yourself.” Iwaizumi snaps, cutting off the conversation and rising to his feet. “Believe me, he’ll answer all your questions.” 

As if on cue, they hear two sets of footsteps outside and the familiar lilt of Oikawa’s voice floats past the doorway—followed by a feminine giggle that should _definitely_ not be around the vicinity of the boys’ locker room. 

“Speak of the devil.” Matsukawa smirks, a nasty curl of lips that would put even Satan himself to shame, and Hanamaki quickly returns it with a devilish grin of his own. 

Without wasting any time, they crouch down to their knees and cup their ears to the door. 

Iwaizumi rubs his temple in frustration. Only the gossip kings of Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club would ever stoop as low as to eavesdrop. The approaching footsteps outside become louder as time passes, and they pause just inches behind the door. Bits of muffled voices drift into his ears, but he’s not close enough to make out any of the words. Iwaizumi peers down at his friends, whose focus is plastered in the ugly scrunch of their faces. The unreasonable part of him that’s in love with Oikawa wants to squat down beside them out of pure selfishness, to secretly steal a bit of private conversation that's not meant for his ears. But a much larger, more vocal, part of him doesn’t want to betray the complete trust Oikawa has in him. More than love, the only thing he can never stand to lose is Oikawa’s all-encompassing friendship; the mutual understanding they’ve tirelessly built over years and years of endless wear and tear, the connection tested and twisted along by the hands of time. Iwaizumi keeps his feet glued to the same spot, because romantic feelings aside, he is still lucky enough to call himself that crappy guy’s best friend, if nothing else. 

“This is a bad idea,” he starts to say, but a single wave of Matsukawa’s hand cuts him off. 

“Shh, Iwaizumi! We can’t hear!” 

“ _Because you’re not supposed to be listening in!_ ” Iwaizumi hisses. 

He takes a step forward, but before he can yank both of them away, the door swings open and knocks away the hulking men blocking its path. A round of expletives escape their throats as they scramble away like kicked puppies. 

“What the—?” 

The glow of the afternoon sun forms a halo behind Oikawa and highlights the hues of brown in his irises. His gaze lingers on their friends’ deer-caught-in-headlights look, before sweeping aside to lock eyes with Iwaizumi. 

“What’s going on here?” 

“Nothing!” Hanamaki says a bit too quickly and disguises it by clearing his throat. “We were just about to leave when you barrelled into us! Be more careful, jeez!” 

Following his best friend’s lead, Matsukawa locks Oikawa into a headlock and adds, “Aren’t you running a bit late? You’re not setting a good example, Captain.” A shit-eating grin spreads across his face as a string of incoherent protests bubbles out of Oikawa’s mouth. 

Iwaizumi stifles a laugh. Without missing a beat, they manage to wiggle out of a precarious situation and shift all blame on Oikawa. He’s got to hand it to them— his friends are a pair of crafty motherfuckers. This moment feels so normal, so familiar. It compels him to forget the broken heart he’s nursing and pulls him back to the time when his biggest problem was catching more feelings than he knows what to do with. 

Oikawa’s expression twists into a small pout as he continues to strain against Matsukawa’s choke hold. “Now you’re ganging up on me. I should report you two for bullying and harassment,” he manages to say through short gasps of breath. 

Matsukawa chuckles darkly. “Now, do you really think that’s the wisest thing to say when you’re stuck like this?” 

“You—!”

A small giggle penetrates through the playful atmosphere, a sound much like the morning sun after a long rain, so bright it rightfully does not belong to the dirt and stink and gloom of the men’s locker room. 

But Iwaizumi doesn’t feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on his skin, because when he notices the petite brunette standing behind the door, his blood freezes over. 

_It’s her._

Amusement dances in the chestnut of her eyes as they survey the scene, a laughing gaze fixed on the arm around Oikawa’s neck. While pretty, there is nothing particularly spectacular about her. And Iwaizumi doesn’t say this because he’s bitter, but because she’s truly not the type Oikawa usually goes for. Her hazel curls fall over her shoulders like a curtain. No accessories decorate her hair, no tacky jewelry frames her milky skin, and no makeup cakes her face. She’s not the type to stand out from a crowd nor the type to raise eyebrows. Maybe that’s one reason why Oikawa is fond of her. When he’s not wearing himself down with practice, he’s always under the spotlight, always the center of attention no matter where he goes. He’s had almost no time for himself, but he’s too kind, too gracious not to socialize with those who adore him—Iwaizumi included. For Oikawa, maybe all he needs is someone he can call home. And Iwaizumi, with his sharp words and brash show of affection, isn’t it. 

Or more like, he’s never qualified to be in the running at all. 

Not like it matters— he realizes when his gaze dips down from her face and fixates on the fabric over her uniform— because the proof of their relationship is right in front of his eyes. 

Oikawa’s club jacket is currently draped over her figure, the oversized article clinging to her knees and wrapping around her like a blanket. 

Iwaizumi swallows thickly, mouth suddenly as dry as sandpaper. His heart is beating so loudly in his ears, he barely hears Oikawa introduce her as his girlfriend, barely reacts when twin smirks stretch across his friends faces as they subtly ask her questions. Their gold mine of information is suddenly at their disposal, and Iwaizumi can only imagine how delighted they are. 

But he is stone cold. 

Frozen and unmoving, as tendrils of anguish sap the light out of his eyes and casts his soul in deep shadows. 

“Iwa-chan?” 

The concern in Oikawa’s voice drags him out of his stony stupor. With a start, he realizes four pairs of eyes are looking at him expectantly, and he feels an embarrassed flush pricking the tips of his ears. 

“Sorry, what was that?” he lamely asks. 

Oikawa places a hand on his hips and huffs in disapproval. “I know you’ve never been graced by a beautiful woman’s presence before, but don’t get all tongue tied around my girlfriend please.”

Vein popping in his temple, Iwaizumi stares daggers at Oikawa and instinctively balls up the front of his uniform with his fist. “Are you begging to be hit, Shittykawa?” 

The bastard has the audacity to laugh, and Iwaizumi hates how the obnoxious sound penetrates through the deepest walls of his heart so effortlessly. With their bodies inches apart, once again he finds himself in a situation where Oikawa is near enough to touch, to kiss, to hold onto. Iwaizumi’s breath hitches, grip tightening over Oikawa’s vest as he memorizes every curve and contour of his face. Oikawa’s eyes twinkle mischievously and deepen into a color of rich brown under the artificial light of the room. His smile is broad, cheeky, as if he’s daring Iwaizumi to go through with his threat. 

Iwaizumi releases a shaky breath, turning away as he lets go, allowing Oikawa to slip through his fingers like he’s done countless times before. Iwaizumi talks big; he threatens with kicks and punches and headbutts because those are all he knows to do. He doesn’t know how to be kind, to handle others with a gentle touch, to shed the fake bravado hiding his vulnerable heart. 

“Sorry,” the words tumble out of his mouth in a weak croak, “I have somewhere to be. It was nice meeting you.” That is all he offers to Megumi as he pushes his way through the door. He breaks into a run as soon as he is outside the confines of the room, ignoring the calls trailing behind him. 

A dark haze muddles his head as his feet drag him away. He has no idea where they’re taking him, but as far as he knows any place is better than the suffocating space back there. 

Iwaizumi thought he was doing so well; acting like his heart wasn’t ripped out from his chest, chewed, spat on, and held together by a string of salvation he’s found in Oikawa’s friendship. 

He thought he could pretend to tuck all his feelings away to the deepest crevice of his heart and forget they ever existed. But it all blew up in his face. And it took one club jacket to push him over the edge. Iwaizumi runs faster, desperate to feel the contraction of his diaphragm, the quick pumping of blood to his heart, anything that can ease the helplessness tearing away at his soul.

“...-chan. Iwa-chan!” A sharp tug on his wrist brings his run to a full stop. Iwaizumi’s breath hitches when he meets Oikawa’s face, both their chests heaving from the impromptu run. 

“What the hell was that about?!” Oikawa snaps as soon as his breath evens out. Iwaizumi says nothing and looks down on his feet, not even bothering to defend himself. 

He hears Oikawa sigh, can almost picture him running a hand through his windswept hair and tugging it in frustration. “Iwa-chan. You used to tell me this all the time so I’m sure you already know, but I won’t know what the problem is if you don’t say anything.” 

Iwaizumi winces, because _yes_ that’s exactly what he would say to Oikawa if he were in his shoes now. But where does he even begin to explain? 

He grits out, “There is no problem.” because he is still a coward, because it is easier than admitting the truth staring him right in the face. 

_Because I love you._

“Are you really saying that when you can’t even look at me?!” Oikawa juts his fingers under Iwaizumi’s chin and forces him to meet his blazing eyes. 

“What do you _want_ me to say, Oikawa?” he asks defeatedly. Suddenly, Iwaizumi is tired, so _god damn tired_ . He slumps against Oikawa’s chest, head over his heart, fingers digging into the fiber of his jacket like an anchor. For a moment, he can only bring himself to listen to the soothing beat of Oikawa’s heart. Its calm rhythmic thumps are the complete opposite of his erratic ones. It relieves and saddens Iwaizumi all at once, because _this is it._ The confirmation of Oikawa’s feelings. 

_The signal to let go._

He doesn’t expect Oikawa to pull him closer and place his chin atop his head. His temperature spikes as Oikawa’s body heat spreads to him and mingles with his own, causing Iwaizumi’s weary heart to race to the beat of his quickened breaths. With his face pressed even closer to Oikawa’s chest, Iwaizumi lets out a small gasp when he hears a second heart pounding. Erratically, wildly, just like his own. 

_A heart that_ _unmistakably belongs to the boy he’s loved for more than half his life._

Iwaizumi pulls away from the embrace and searches Oikawa’s face. “What do you want me to say?” He repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“The _truth,_ Hajime.” 

An involuntary shudder runs through him at the sound of his name on Oikawa’s tongue, but he forces himself to straighten up and look at him in the eye, sifting through words he never imagined he’d get to say out loud. 

“You know I’ll probably be stuck with you for the rest of my life,” he starts. “I’ll watch you conquer the volleyball world, find true love, get married, and maybe even be the Uncle to your children. If I were a normal friend, there’s nothing else I’d want more. Because you deserve it all, you deserve to be happy.” 

Oikawa opens his mouth to speak, but Iwaizumi doesn’t let him, letting unspoken words tumble out from his lips before he gets the chance to swallow them all back again. “But I’m not a normal friend. I want to be that guy you steal cookies from, the one to comfort you when you’re down, and stand by you during your greatest triumphs.

“I want us to rewatch Godzilla movies, discuss alien conspiracy theories over popcorn, and spend the whole night under a blanket of stars. I want to hold you tightly in my arms as we fall asleep together and wake up to your ugly drooling face every morning. I want to bicker over the consequences of eating milk bread for breakfast and rush to work because you somehow can’t drink coffee when it isn’t at a _certain_ temperature. I want your past, present, future, and everything that comes afterwards because I can’t possibly imagine us living apart, even in another life. It’s selfish of me to say, but I’ve been putting up with your obnoxious ass my entire life so just let me say this out loud.” 

Iwaizumi breathes in deeply. “I want you all to myself, Tooru, forever—“

His last words are swallowed up by a gasp when Oikawa smashes their lips together hungrily, his mouth demanding against his. Iwaizumi instantly melts under his touch and responds to the kiss, wrapping his arms around Oikawa’s waist and pulling him closer as Oikawa runs his fingers through his hair and deepens the kiss. Iwaizumi can focus on nothing but Oikawa’s searing body temperature, the softness of his lips and the curve of his mouth that fits perfectly on his. 

He doesn’t know how long they stand there kissing, but when they finally break apart to catch their breaths, guilt eats away at Iwaizumi when he blurts out, “Your girlfriend.” 

Oikawa’s eyes are blank for a fraction of a second, before a chuckle escapes him. His chest shakes in laughter and Iwaizumi _glowers,_ because how can he laugh when he just kissed another man? 

“This isn’t funny,” he growls. Iwaizumi attempts to push away from Oikawa, but the boy locks him into place, a merry smile still gracing his features. 

“You don’t have to worry about that, Iwa-chan. It was fake.” 

A splutter of disbelief leaves Iwaizumi’s mouth open. “ _What?!”_

“My relationship with Megumi-chan was fake, an act. All of it was just a ruse to make you jealous, because you’re too stubborn to tell me anything.” 

“S-so...the looks, the walk to school, _the club jacket_?” 

Oikawa laughs again. “Oh, that was a good one, wasn’t it? It was Megumi-chan’s idea. She really played her part well.” 

Iwaizumi rubs his eyes, feeling the beginning of a headache coming. “Oikawa, why didn’t you just _tell_ me?” 

Oikawa pouts. “You’re guilty as well, so don’t put this all on me.”

Iwaizumi truly can’t believe it. To think he could’ve saved so much heartache if one of them had only been honest with each other. “You idiot! What would you have done if I decided to give up after that stunt?! You’re so unreasonable!” 

A dopey grin settles on Oikawa’s face as he pulls Iwaizumi back into his arms. “But you didn’t give up on me. And now, we have forever to spend together, right?” 

Try as he might, Iwaizumi cannot stop a grin from breaking out as well. He’ll make Oikawa pay for this another time, but for now he allows himself to relax in his arms, to revel in his warmth. The man he’s loved all this time is finally his, from now until the end. “Yeah, you dumbass. Forever.” 

_To make up for all the times we spent apart._


End file.
